CONTROL
by Okamichu
Summary: when the 6th successful experiment of a Pokemorph project awakens, she finds herself to be anemic and a "free thinking" slave to Damien Rivenchist's-the master-will. Can she, like one previous experiment, break free, despite her illness?
1. Chapter 1: 011

They were called the Chrome Syndicate. They did not believe in stupidity, or brute force tactics to achieve their evil desires. Biding their time, and using their brains over brawn, had brought the C.S. a vast fortune.

That wealth was used to create genetically altered humans. Their DNA had been re-designed, merged with various Pokemon to create a group of basic Pokemorphs, each with different abilities. The experiments did not go without their share of failures, of the 10 attempted, only five managed to survive the horrifying process.

The last two experiments were failures due to an error in merging the DNA of a Legendary Pokemon with a human. The original Merging Serum failed to work, killing the test subjects in a the most painful death imaginable as the wills of human and pokemon rebelled and collided, and as DNA began to erase and eradicate the very existence of the poor soul that was being tested on.

At last, at his wits end, Damien Rivenchist, the leader of the Chrome Syndicate, found _her. _Her intelligence was unmatched, and she was so young, so easy to sway, barely older than a child. She created the ultimate genetic composition, designed to flawlessly combine the bases of human and pokemon DNA as if it occurred naturally.

But she was envied by the genius that designed the original Pokemorph process. He had failed so many times, and this girl, on her first little burst of inspiration, had created an injection that, in theory, would allow any DNA to re-enter and overwrite certain bases in the host's DNA.

And before she could see her own theory tested, the genius disappeared.

…

(Athene)

_What's going on?_

_Where am I?More importantly, __**who**__ am I?_

_I'm cold._

_But…what is cold?I don't think I like it._

I opened my eyes. It was dark, and very wet, almost suffocating. Something covered my face, forcing something harsh and dry into my lungs, hurting my chest. It itched, so I removed it.

As I inhaled the strange liquid, I coughed, sending a huge bubble through the murky solution I was submerged in. I was curled up in a ball, as if I was trying to keep all of the heat I radiated to myself. I wanted to, my skin prickled with a chilly feeling.

A loud, blaring sound began to throb within my head. The darkness drained around me, and a hit a hard, silver disc structure. A tube of glass surrounded me. I hit the base structure a little hard, and made a soft, whining squeak. I blinked several times, blinded by the suddenness of bright lights focusing on me. Then, I looked into the glass-the pale, easily broken stuff, that's what it's called, isn't it?-and blinked.

_Who is that?_ The dainty head tilted to the side.

_What is she?_ The big blue eyes were confused--yes! That was the word! Pink hair, a pretty, light color, was plastered to her face by the odd liquid in the tank, and stuck to her body. Her hair _was _long, it fell all the way down her back! Two little pink ears perked from her hair, and a long, pink tail wrapped around her pale legs. She was pretty in a cute way, and although she was not all skin and bones-she had a bit of a figure--she was very petite-petite meant small, right?

She seemed weak and sickly. Her skin was porcelain pale, but she glowed with an inner light that emanated from her in a supernatural sort of way.

I reached out to touch her, and the pretty, feminine hand of the girl touched mine.

_Wait._

She was me! I was the shivering girl-the helpless looking creature in the strange tank.

"It works! She was a success." A man with grey hair and a thin blonde beard that was beginning to show streaks of silver looked smugly at me.

I opened my mouth, as if expecting something to come out, like this man did. But…how does one…speak?

"Who…are you?" The voice asked. It was strange, a girl's-that much I knew-but it was not weak or wispy as I would have thought. It was _my _voice! "I…I can talk!" I tilted my head to the side. I felt so innocent, so unknowing, when I felt like I should know so much more…

"I am Dr. Cullman. Your creator-head scientist of genetics in the Chrome Syndicate."

Cullman? Where had I heard that before? Well, he did say he was my "creator"…

"If you are feeling confused," Doctor Cullman added, pressing a button that caused the glass to rise away from the silver disk, "IT is because your human mind is having to re-mature. Don't worry, your thought processes will soon be back to the normal maturity of a seventeen year old girl." He took my face in his hand and tilted it up. I met his dark eyes without flinched, my body quivering from the freezing temperature of the room and my body's slight warmth. I knew I was too cold, and that I was having difficulties maintaining my body temperature. "I see that we'll need to get you your blood transfusion, you look quite weak…" Dr. Cullman handed me a necklace with silver tags on it. I looked at the silver plates.

Athene: Experiment 011 Blood Type A-

"Blood transfusion?" I asked, sounding frightened. "Blood transfusion" sounded messy, and a little painful.

"You'll see. Now come with me." Dr. Cullman helped me step down from the tank, helping me maintain my balance as I attempted to stand. He had me perform several meaningless tasks, such as touching each finger to my thumb. Satisfied, he scribbled something down on a clip-board, and then led me past several odd flashing machines with screens that showed many odd things, such as pictures of people and odd, moving charts that seemed to symbolize things. I couldn't read them, but I knew they were computers--monitors to be precise. I was finally pushed into a room with clothes hanging around the circular walls.

A bored looking lady was snoring lightly in a chair. I sneezed suddenly, and she sat up, eyes wide.

As she saw me, she calmed down. "Oh, hello. I take it you're the new experiment?"

Unsure of what to say, I put my arms behind my back and looked away shyly. The woman sighed and grabbed a long piece of nylon material with strange markings on it that determined measurements. She put it around my bust and hips, and told me what to put on. After I put on the undergarments correctly, she told me I could take whatever clothes I wanted from the room and wear them.

I got a soft, light red short sleeve shirt and pulled it on. Then I noticed a large brown pullover that could zip up from about mid-chest. I put it on, delighted by how comfy and warm it was, despite the fact that it seemed to swallow my petite frame in wrinkles and folds of its massive wool knit. I found a skirt that matched my outfit, and slipped it on. But this left my legs cold, so I found a pair of tall wool socks that complemented my clothes. I didn't want any shoes though, so I refused the ones the lady offered me.

Now that I was fully dressed, I walked back outside to Dr. Cullman.

"I'm dizzy," I told him after a couple of minutes of walking down a hallway. I sounded like I was out of breath, near hyperventilation. I put my hand, fully covered up by my pullover's sleeve, onto my temple.

"We're here." The Dr. walked into a room with a couple of big, soft chairs, and big metal boxes that emanated a deep chill from them. "Sit down over there." I did as I was told, and sat down in a comfortable purple recliner-type chair.

"Give her type A-." Dr. Cullman told a woman standing in the room--the nurse.

I looked at Dr. Cullman, "Am I…in the hospital?" Knowledge was returning to me.

"No." He replied. "You are in the Medical Wing of the Chrome Syndicate HQ Building."

The nurse had returned with a packet of crimson blood. She knelt beside me, rolling up my left sleeve, quickly and efficiently jabbing an IV needle into the vein that was located in the crook of my elbow, ignoring my cry of shock and discomfort.

"Alright sweetie, just relax." She stroked my hair and hooked the IV tube into the blood.

A small device on Dr. Cullman's belt said, "This is Damien Rivenchist calling Dr. Cullman. If 011 is ready, I will be coming to meet her."

"She's ready. I am on the Medical Floor in the transfusion room." Dr. Cullman answered the man's voice.


	2. Chapter 2: Made of Steele

Author Notes: I really wasn't sure I was going to submit anymore of this. I didn't really like the way I wrote the first chapter. But after several kind remarks about continuing this story, I decided, why not.

This chapter is chronologically before the first, and be warned, the character is free with her language.

Chapter 3 should be up maybe tomorrow, if you're interested. Enjoy.

* * *

(Steele)

"Shit. Shit. SHIT!" I could feel every sprinting step jarring my bones, especially in my arms. My teeth clicked together in a way that made my impressively long canine teeth dig into my thin lips. Thank whoever was the God of my forsaken world that I was faster than the naked eye could see. The sedative darts left a trail behind me as I vanished from the line of fire.

A dart came horrifically close to my body. I snarled and swung out my arm, feeling my bones move as the blades sprouted from the sides of my forearm. The dart was sliced effortlessly in half. My motions appeared slow and lazy to my eye, but the guard was only aware of my body blurring too quickly. I slapped him hard with the flat of my arm-blades and continued sprinting down the gleaming chrome hallways.

A voice continued to scream above me on the intercom system, "Stop 002. All entrances have been sealed, all guards on Code Red."

The dog tags jingling around near what was a pathetic excuse for my cleavage gave it all away: I was Experiment 002, informally known as Steele, hybridization of Scyther and human, all lady-balls and rarely any brains. Formerly a fairly mindless slave, now a panicked escapee.

I dropped two more guards and sprinted around a corner, sliding to a stop as a violet eyed male stood boldly in the center of the hallway, flanked by two armed guards. His face was twisted in sadness, but he was bound to do his duty. He hadn't had an awakening, like I had. He was still CONTROL'd.

"Steele, we're good friends. You were there for me when I was just adjusting to myself as an experiment. Don't you remember that bowl of mashed potatoes in the cafeteria?" He was shaking. It wouldn't be long now, I decided. His override would happen and he'd attack.

I made a sad face and shook my head, "I'm sorry." I was fast enough that I slammed one guard and forced the other to shoot at me in closed quarters. I pulled my fellow experiment into the shot and sneered as he was felled. I blocked a new dart, feeling it shatter against my blade. I knocked that guard unconscious and continued to run down the hallway. The elevator was there, I knew it!

The perks of having blades made to cut through Pokemon ass included the ability to hack and slash everything else. The metal doors crumpled from my super-human fists and then seemed to melt as I cut them out of the door. I slashed the ropes of the elevator and listened to the cart crash to the bottom floor. I leapt down into the shaft, using my blades to slow my descent. A shadow suddenly fell over my body, and I looked up.

"Fuck." I pulled my body from my sliding descent and flipped across the elevator shaft. My legs curled into a powerful crouch and the blurring body, more Pokemon than the human that mixed with it, was caught unawares as I hit him from behind, using his body as a leaping point. His blue, scaly body was heavy with bulky muscles, unlike my thin, springy frame. I kicked him hard in the head and sent him flying down the elevator shaft, listening with satisfaction as his body thudded into the ground.

Translucent wings fluttered from my back, slipping through the tiny slits in the back of my baggy t-shirt. They weren't very good for flying, but for gliding down to the ground, they were quite nice. I fluttered down and landed lightly on the back of the experiment I had ko'd. I walked casually to the door and kicked it down, striding through the hallway as though I owned it. Confidence was a thing I had in abundance. I had enough confidence for every stuntman in the world and then some. It felt good to never really be afraid.

A green blur whispered in front of my face, sending me onto the alert. I brought my blades up and blocked the blur, allowing it to materialize into an albino-pale boy with green-tinted brown hair and piercing red eyes. A Gallade hybrid, the eighth experiment. The experiments were supposed to increase in power as the scientists made more of us, but personally, I found I was still the strongest of all the experiments. I was the oldest, the most experienced. We locked eyes, mine a black color, like two polished obsidian stones, his more like rubies.

"I never figured you for a quitter, Steele. Are you fucking crazy?" He snarled, confusion apparent in his drawling voice.

I smirked and kicked him in the crotch before charging a powerful Fury Cutter. Using the moves of a Pokemon was tiring, but he tried to block with a Psycho Cut, the pathetic green arm blades mere knives compared to my scythes. His arm cracked as my blow sent him flying back. He howled in pain and crumpled, cradling his arm and writhing on the floor. I hit a guard that was running around the corner so hard his eyes crossed, and with a nasty sneer, I threw him onto the experiment and began sprinting towards the front lobby, which was mere seconds away from me.

I felt my body effortlessly picking up speed. I had always been admired for my sheer speed and light body and power. However, with my loyalties changed, I was a threat, not something to be praised. I shot towards the door with hope, for it was the door to my freedom. Something I had never known, but something I had to feel before I was forever ensnared.

A graceful, beautiful arm seemed to appear out of thin air. My thoughts began to shout obscenities before my mouth could even begin to form the colorful words, and then my throat was slammed into with enough force to send me to the floor.

A long legged, impressively-model like young woman stood before me. Her round, full lips were pursed in a devious smile that made her the favorite among all the staff at the Syndicate's facilities. Her shapely figure was clothed in a short cocktail dress made of soft blue fabric, the tight waistline drawn by a black ribbon. Her bountiful black locks were pulled into a loose braid that hung over one of her thin shoulders.

Had I been the type to get jealous, Roscoe would have made me insanely green with envy. However, I was so full of myself I was immune to her female-hate beacon. I hated her for other reasons. Namely, her sugar-sweet personality that hid her true inner bitch.

"I thought you'd try a window or something, Steele, the front door is so cliché." She raised one of her elegantly arched eyebrows, "But it's rather predictable you'd do something as stupid as running to the front door during your escape. You always were easy to read."

"Shut your fucking mouth, egocentric bitch!" I stood up, rubbing my throat. My voice was raspy with pain. I noticed a few strands of my bleached hair straying in front of my vision and blew them away. "Or I'll slit your throat open and tear out your vocal chords." The threat of violence was just a threat. She knew blood was my weakness.

She feigned horror, "Oh, don't do that, darling. You know the sight of blood makes me incredibly ill." Her eyes reminded me of blood, framed by an almond eye shape and thick lashes.

Roscoe was an inherently frustrating girl. I was three years her elder, but she was several inches taller than me-she had to be at least five foot nine, while I was a meager five two-and was graced with a body I lacked. To say Roscoe wasn't feminine was to say I was fat. She was the epitome of female, and her lack of roughness irritated me in a way that I couldn't explain.

I swung my arm at her, hoping to push her away from my path to the door. Roscoe gracefully whispered back, her steps lighter than mine.

"Those kitchen knives in your arms really slow you down," She yawned, covering her mouth with her elegant fingers, "I could have read a chapter in a book by the time you got here."

I felt a cry of anger and frustration tear from my throat as I swung at her over and over, only to be dodged and dodged. She was fast, faster than me, and I didn't want to admit it. Roscoe easily leapt over me, bouncing on my head to give it a little extra sting. She kicked at the back of my knees, but I spun around and blocked the kick with all of my luck. She could make me look clumsy.

We went back and forth, exchanging blows gracefully. I allowed her to push me backwards, because my back was to the door. She seemed aware of the fact, trying to dance around me with her superior speed and herd me in. I snapped dangerously close to her on every level. Roscoe had inherited her Lucario powers gracefully. If I didn't hate her, I would be impressed by her skill.

We were in the heat of our bout when I noticed guards were running into the lobby. If I could pin Roscoe in their line of fire, I would be home free. I immediately swung both of my blades forward, forcing Roscoe into a ball as she flipped to avoid me. Her speed was her downfall-the soldiers thought they would have time to shoot me before she touched the ground. Three sedatives marked her ample backside.

Her face suddenly fell into a serious expression. "You. Idiots." Her voice was filled with frustration as she began to stagger back. The darts where insanely powerful. "Oh…" She grabbed her head, "My head is swimming…." She turned her gaze up to me, "You are one lucky…bug." Her knees gave in and her eyes rolled up as she collapsed.

I kicked her out of my way and sped into the three guards, knocking them out with ease.

I tossed my cell phone onto the floor, shattering it carelessly. It was a tracking device. My ripped jeans were looking bad, but I decided I could find clothing elsewhere if I got desperate. I forced the doors of the Syndicate HQ's main floor (designed to be a respectable business lobby) open and strode into the wilderness.

No longer would anyone control me.

My name was Steele, formerly known as Experiment 002. I was free.


End file.
